


The Ricksmas Tree

by Left_Handed_Rick, Squikkums



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, It’s a Christmas Special, M/M, Pining, Rick’s a tsundere scrooge, awkward first date, fluff like snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 18:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left_Handed_Rick/pseuds/Left_Handed_Rick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squikkums/pseuds/Squikkums
Summary: Rick wasn’t exactly thrilled to see the sudden seasonal snow start falling on the Citadel, but nonetheless, he signed up for the Citadel’s Ricksmas Tree event, longing for a change of pace. When he can’t back out of a Morty's impossible secret santa request, he decides to figure something out, before he ends up giving him a broken heart this Ricksmas.





	1. Sanchez, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rickxoxomorty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickxoxomorty/gifts).



> _This fic is a gift for rickxoxomorty, our Secret Santa who requested a cute, fluffy vanilla adventure! Merry Ricksmas and we hope you enjoy it!_
> 
> ###  Extras For This Fic 
> 
>        
>  [ ✦ Starry AU Homepage ](https://starry-citadel-au.neocities.org/index.html)   
>  [ ✦ Starry AU Citizens ](https://starry-citadel-au.neocities.org/citadel-citizens.html)   
>  [ ◉ Follow Along Playlist on Spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/user/qgd6gt9y4l98ubsslngy6a3ue/playlist/3lqDqbNswHUhQ6ZxgaPrtt?si=MGu1bKMsSq2BWByKSX27xA)   
>  [◉ Fanart on Mastadon](https://fandom.ink/@left_handed_rick)   
> 

  

Rick was only a few days into the _Advent Countdown_ on the radio and, already, he had grown sick of the saccharine christmas music which had completely taken over the Citadel Media Network’s building. He groaned, frustrated with the exhaustion of having to think over the merry and bright chorus ringing in his ears.

“–Sign up for the what?”

He glanced across the surface of his paperwork strewn desk, toward the Morty from the main floor reception office, who had also insisted on interrupting his day. The CMN assistant rolled his eyes as he adjusted his glasses, and pushed a clipboard into his chest.  

“The Citadel Secret Santa. Y’know, the Ricksmas Tree in the Plaza. You go and pick a Morty’s dimensional ID off the tree and–”

“–Yeah, I know what _Ricksmas_ is.” Rick dismissively glanced toward the clipboard, before unsuccessfully attempting to return it to the Morty. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus on one thing at a time. He blew out a steam of air, trying to keep the conversation brief. At this rate, it was going to be another late night pushing paperwork.  

“Y-You can’t just give me the ID?”

“What!? No!” The Morty crossed his arms and shifted his weight, anchoring himself in place, and Rick growled, considering if it would be worth the trip to R&R for pushing the kid out of his office.

“That’s not in the spirit of the holiday season.”  

He rolled his eyes, and turned his attention to the clipboard, hurriedly flipping through the sheets of paper. He skimmed the instructions with a growing frown. It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard those _Ricksmas_ stories, but you're tryin’ to pitch the wrong plot, here, kid.”

“You should give it a shot,” the Morty encouraged, glancing around for a chair to make himself comfortable as the Rick awkwardly shifted in his desk chair and clenched his teeth. “It’s something different, y’know?”

“Yeah sure, whatever.” He hurridley scrawled his name across the clipboard, committing himself to the _Rickest holiday adventure on the Citadel_ , and pushed it back into the Office Morty’s chest, hoping taking the time to fill out the extra paperwork would get him out of his sight.  

“Get out of here, I’ve gotta file these invoices for D-17B by end of workday.”

Pleased with another committed participant, the Morty smiled, hugging the clipboard to his chest as the Rick waved him out of his office.  

“Don’t forget to pick an ornament from the Ricksmas tree!”

He closed the door behind the teen, and returned to his desk with a long drawn out sigh, pressing the heels of his palms into this eye sockets as the carols unceasingly played overhead. He leaned back into his office chair, scrubbing fingers through his hair, before reaching into his side drawer to fish out his flask, resigning himself to another late night.

He pulled the cap and took a generous pull, glancing around the dull corporate space. The only sign of life was a the large, framed motivational poster, illustrating the despairing face of a Morty, hanging onto the branch of a yqugxiodian tree – moments from falling into the plant’s spiraling rows of teeth – the with the words inscribed below: “Aw Jeez, Rick, it Could be Worse.”

 

_Ricksmas cheers to that._

 

He had been assigned to his line of work as the Chief of the Citadel Media Network’s billing and invoice department, and that empty title was about as exciting as it sounded. Unlike some of the other assignments, at least with this one he knew exactly what he had signed up for, as boring and predictable as it was.

Nothing ever changed in the Citadel, at the very least, not for this Rick.

His gaze lingered on the motivational poster, and for the first time in a recent memory his heart raced in uncertainty, looking forward to the idea of something new.

He sighed, returning to the unfinished work at his desk as he tried to enjoy the change of tune.  

  


***

 

 

The Citadel Media Network building wasn’t far from the tourist district plaza. Rick routed his way home by way of the Citadel Central Hyperloop station; it was only a short detour through the Tourist District’s main plaza, which he’d intentionally avoided from the moment snow had started to fall in the Citadel.   

The ultimate unspoken secret that every Rick knew was that holidays existed on the Citadel because, although his interdimensional counterparts would never outright admit it, they needed the social rituals abandoned on Earth, and recreated their own versions of them on the Citadel.

 _Ricksmas_ had become its own eclectic Rick-centric holiday, celebrated and loved by a society which simultaneously _acted so above it all._

The plaza was brimming with festive bodies, and Rick pushed his way through the crowded commotion, amused at how over-the-top cliche the plaza's transformation had been. Storefronts to street lights had been tastelessly over-decorated with clashing reds and greens, while chipper Mortys in little helper costumes waved their bells for charity. Ricks drunkenly stumbled their way through the action, festively inebriated past the usual high-functioning daily average, throwing arms around each others’ shoulders to set the guarded assholery aside.

Rick harrumphed, burying his hands in his pockets, hoping to get this detour over with as he pushed his way through the crowds. The sounds of the season, blared over the plaza’s loudspeakers, trumpeted the festive spirit as pairs of Ricks and Mortys carried swaths of shopping bags, skillfully weaving their way through the critical mass of bodies.

The smell of roasted chestnuts caught his attention, and he turned to see a few pop-up food stands selling festive intergalactic street-eats at the plaza’s edge. He brushed past another interdimensional counterpart, high as balls from candied cybin tentacle that was still writhing on a stick, and for the first time that evening, smiled to himself. _That was one way to enjoy the Ricksmas lig–_

“–Hey!” With a spin, the Rick snapped at the body which had barreled into him, “Watch where you’re going!”

A disheveled, homeless looking Morty hurriedly rose from the ground he had been shoved to, and, with tears running down his face, stuttered out an apology, not even glancing up to meet his eyes. Rick quickly changed his demeanor at the display, and reached out a hand to offer help, but before he could speak the teen scrambled away. The office worker sighed, watching the homeless youth retreat into the Citadel streets and feeling useless.

 

 _That_ wasn't very _in the spirit_ of the holiday season.

 

He’d been spending too much time filing paperwork. He frowned, turning his attention back to the task at hand, asking a few Mortys wearing academy uniforms for directions. The group of teens looked up from their phones, then giggled amongst themselves before, at once, pointing their collective fingers toward the largest, brightest tree in the middle of the fucking plaza. He waved them off with an unthankful grumble, and continued to make his way to the unmistakable centerpiece as their laughter trailed after him.

A low whistle escaped his lips as he caught sight of the overzealous display. Small, multicolored lights hovered in patterns through the branches, and the nanite drones adorned the structure with a shimmering, orwellian-esque presence. The colors danced in synchronization to the Citadel radio’s music and the CMN office worker rolled his eyes at the orchestrated presentation as he shifted his gaze.

Beside him, a couple who was oblivious to his presence wholesomely laughed as they held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes, warmly blushing as they passed a mulled wine between them. Rick blushed, bunching his jacket more tightly around him, as he realized that he was being _that Rick,_ creepily living vicariously through a window-shopping-side-eye. _Fuck_ , he _really_ needed to get a life outside of the office, before he ended up with some mannequin leg-lamp working the surface of his desk as a primary romantic interest.

With downcast eyes, he continued to mull over his thoughts as he moved closer to his destination. It wasn’t the relationship as much as the connection he had been longing for, and if he were being honest with himself, he _had_ decided to sign up for this seasonal event with the thought of finding such connection in mind, even if it was only for a moment.

When the interdimensional constant paired Ricks and Mortys off as if it were some kind of central-finite fate, Rick concluded that he probably wasn’t unique in longing for a partner, romantic or no. If there was any truth in the universe, however, it was that it was full of disappointment, and Rick assured himself that this likely wasn’t some sort of exception to the interdimensional Murphy’s law.

The poignant smell of pine oil overwhelmed his senses as as he arrived at the base of the _Ricksmas Tree_ , and Rick glanced up at the live evergreen, littered with green, gold, and red orbs, nestled into the branches of the snow dusted tree. He read a few of the inscriptions, reaching for the green orb nearest to him.

 

_A blue shirt or a nice sweater!  –Morty I-39g4_

 

He let the orb fall back into the branches of the evergreen, and reached for the gold orb, which held a slightly longer request, etched into the metal’s surface.

 

_Dinner and a night in Silver Palm –Morty D-90_

 

Quickly, he let the ambiguous request go, the biggest commitment he was making this year was having signed up for the event, and he was already regretting that decision. His hand turned a crimson ornament to face him.

 

_I need a thick grandaddy Rick to come down my naughty chimney this Ricksmas! –Morty X-631a2_

 

Well that escalated quickly. Rick blushed, pushing the imagery out of his far-too lonely thoughts, and took a step back, giving the tree another once over, before inspecting another red orb just to be sure of his suspicion.

 

_I wanna be wrapped up in red so you can jingle your little helper’s bells this Ricksmas. –Morty C-42p7_

 

The ornaments seemed to be following some sort of progressively explicit traffic-light system. Simple enough. He turned his focus toward the green orbs, searching out a few of the simpler, straightforward requests with the firm decision to participate just enough. He stepped around the tree, reaching for another green ornament.  

 

_A hover scooter or a hover vespa! –Morty R-63a4_

 

He scoffed, carefully releasing the ornament to its pine-scented place. That one was so far out of his price range that he grew anxious at having even touched it. Contrary to what Mortys believed, not _all_ Ricks were rolling in fat stacks, and he wasn’t particularly interested in trying to work miracles this season.

With a frown, his eyes flicked around the base of the tree, wondering if coming to the tree any sooner would have allowed him to be more selective. He was about ready to give up, when his gaze fell across a gold ornament with an inwardly facing request, ominously hanging alone and untouched on the Ricksmas tree.  

Eager for a laugh, the Rick reached for it, wondering what sort of dumb Morty request was so bad that literally every other orb surrounding it had been chosen first. He pulled on the yellow orb, shaking the surrounding snow off the pine needles around it as it sprung loose from the branch it hung on, but his smile shifted to surprise, then panic, when the luminescent gold began to irreversibly transform into a beautiful sapphire blue.

 

Fuck.

 

His heart sank as he watched his own dimensional ID inscribe itself into the metal, and the weight of his fuck-up settled into his hand. With shaking fingers Rick held his breath, and rotated the orb to read the request he had just accepted.

 

_An adventure –Morty D-25c_

 


	2. All I Want for Ricksmas is You

 

Morty hadn’t been expecting his ornament to get picked from the tree this year. 

Morty sat on the floor of the daycare, staring at the multicolored ornaments adorning the Ricksmas Tree. He’d put in the same request the last time it had snowed, and was disappointed when his ornament wasn’t even touched. His fellow Mortys shared their ornaments with each other as the orbs pulsed and shook – a sign that there was a Rick at the tree reading their request in real-time, then watched their expressions light up like the Ricksmas Tree itself when their ornaments turned blue.     

Daycare Rick had strongly advised all the Mortys against requesting anything to do with  _ an adventure _ , or  _ returning to Earth, or wanting a new Rick _ , but Morty had ignored the older man’s sage advice and put down the only thing he really, truly wanted. Morty  _ had  _ once heard of a Rick who had portaled a Morty out of the Citadel. Maybe he was in the guard, or it was some in-dimensional tourist Rick wanting to participate, but Morty wasn’t asking to be portaled off the Citadel. He’d just missed spending time with his grandfather.  

Request something realistic, and don’t expect too much. The rules of the Ricksmas tree were clear, and if Morty hasn’t been able to do that, he only had himself to blame.  

The sound of a soft ringing bell caught his attention, and he watched  _ his  _ ornament on the daycare’s Ricksmas tree excitedly pulse, and for a moment his heart stopped, and fluttered in response. Quickly, he pushed the rising hope back down and pulled it from its branch, before returning to the floor, his grip tightening around it, as he stared hard at the surface.  _ It was his _ . 

It vibrated in haptic feedback again, and Morty held his breath and bit his lip.

Ricks didn’t ever choose his ornament. 

Suddenly, the ornament rang out in an alarming magical sound, letting out a burst of light, before a rich sapphire blue began to transform the metal colors of the orb. Morty blinked back tears in disbelief, and brought his hand to his face. On the opposite side of his request, a dimensional ID number etched it’s way into the metal.     
  


_ Rick O-12 _

  
  


 

“You pulled it off the tree, right?” 

“Y-yeah, but that’s not–” 

“Didn’t you read the instructions?” 

Morty leaned over the edge of the reception desk, and sharply pushed the clipboard into Rick’s chest, who more thoroughly reviewed the piece of paper. Just above his damming signature, in red all caps letters, read the final instructions: 

_ “REMOVING THE ORNAMENT FROM THE RICKSMAS TREE IS YOUR LEGALLY BINDING ACCEPTANCE OF THE SECRET SANTA.”  _

“Pfft.” He dismissed the contract with the same expression as when he had first looked it over, glancing back at the Morty who returned the expression with narrowed eyes. “Oh come on! Like there isn’t some sort of failsafe? Mistakes gotta happen, right?” 

“A  _ Rick? _ Make a mistake?” the Morty’s barely concealed sarcasm countered. He adjusted his glasses, and informed him matter-of-factly of the conditions, focusing on his computer screen. 

“Your ornament doesn't qualify for any of the circumstances.”  

“Yeah? So I just won’t do it!” 

With a turn of his head, Morty’s eyes rolled back toward him with an irritated frown, before he leaned over the reception ledge, reaching toward the clipboard. With his pen, the office assistant pointed to the fine print at the bottom of the sign up sheet, which detailed a number of financial and legal penalties for Citadel Citizens who pulled out or abused the event. 

Rick ran his fingers through his hair as he skimmed the mounting consequences, supposing that  _ this was _ a Rick-based society after all, and for as many Ricks who would try to exploit and abuse the Ricksmas Tree, there was a Rick ready and waiting to fuck himself over for trying to fuck with it.  _ Rick eat Rick world.  _

As the holiday music insistently played in the background, he skimmed over the list of his fellow office workers’ names who had also signed up for the secret santa.  _ Of course _ Radio Rick had committed to ten. He’d never met the small-scale Citadel celebrity, even though he worked four floors below him, but the Rick was probably planning to bring them all ten of them on his show for a wholesome day of good press. Ugh. 

The last time the Citadel celebrated Ricksmas, Radio had done a live show, taking all of the unclaimed item-based ornaments from the tree, and gifted them on-air on behalf of his listeners, and the CMN building had had a field day jerking themselves off at their own Ricksmas special. The Ricksmas Tree was one of the few events that made the white collared businesses of the tourist district look good, and the image of Rickless Mortys having their wishes granted by Ricks stroked their good-spirited ego just so. It wasn’t a coincidence that the Ricksmas Tree had become the unofficial center of the Rick-centric Citadel holiday.  

“Can I at least ask to trade?” Rick inquired to the Morty, now working at the front desk. Maybe he could get Radio to trade with him, since he actually liked this kind of thing. That guy was probably full of adventures. 

“No. It’s a security thing, once your ID is traced and inscribed on the Ricksmas ornament, you’re committed.” 

Rick groaned, internally shoving all of his blame toward the convenient outlet sounding above him, heralding his bad fortune with cheeky tunes. Radio Rick’s Ricksmas special was why the CMN network building had started sending office assistants out to make the rounds every season. 

The Citadel sponsored corporation wanted to milk that event for everything it was worth, encouraging all of their employees, even the often forgotten office workers like him, to commit to at least one Secret Santa. The unapologetic Morty narrowed his eyes toward the Ricks increasingly frustrated scowl. 

“Look, your request is a blank slate! Make it anything you want!” He extended the sapphire ornament, returning it to the reluctant office Rick who had claimed it. “You want to be a Rickhole? Stand the poor Morty up, tell him  _ that  _ was the adventure he dared to ask a Rick for.” 

The Rick's frown deepened. He had spitefully considered that as an option, before firmly deciding that was off the table. Even he wasn’t that big of an asshole. He reached for his Ricksmas ornament and shoved it into his pocket.  

_ “Y- _ Yeah, maybe I’ll do just that.”

 

 

Rick returned to his apartment at Rickview, tossing his coat over the couch with an exhausted sigh. He should have never signed up for this shit.  _ Fuck Ricksmas. _

He slogged out of his office clothes in favor of his well worn khakis and a thick blue sweater – recently purchased after a particularly cold commute home. Slipping into his pair of stay-at-home loafers, he moved into his small kitchen, fishing a glass from his cupboard, and reached for his seasonal scotch– purchased along with the sweater. He poured a quick glass, neat, to kick off the evening before plucking open the door of his freezer to find a few festive cubes of ice, dropping them into the tumblr to match the snow. He stretched, rolling his neck, and finally winding down from the day, made his way to the kitchen table, collapsing into the stool to pick up the latest useless gadget he had been drunkenly tinkering on. 

He reached over to the small radio, flipping it on, and then glanced surreptitiously around his empty apartment before tuning into the Citadel’s radio station. The sounds of Ricksmas festively filtered into the lonely apartment – not that he needed to justify himself to anyone, but he didn’t like working in the quiet. Unlike his office space at work, it helped him think.  

Humming along to the music with a nice buzz, he took another sip from his glass, and turned the small mechanical gadget in his hands. Most of his creations were impractical and purposeless. He just liked mindlessly outletting and working with his hands as he decompressed. It wasn’t quite  _ Jerry’s Game _ , but it was the Citadel equivalent of Sanchez and chill. Ultimately, they were as pointless as non-working life on the Citadel, and provided nothing except an outlet to nowhere.  

Beside him, the Ricksmas ornament rested on the table, and Rick reached for it, lifting it from the table with a level of drunken curiosity brought on by the end of his second glass.  _ Maybe  _ he could hack the tech and reverse this somehow – solve the problem himself. 

He inspected the ornament, demystifying its miraculous presentation as he cynically wondered  _ how  _ such an event on the Citadel could unfold without being exploited. Yeah, the ornament’s sleight of hand had looked pretty fucking magical, but the metallic touch surface was clearly operating some sort of dimensional pattern tracing, registering the Ricks and Mortys directly from the Citadel’s CF scanner database the exact moment its surface was touched.  

He turned it over in his hand, scoffing at the dumb two-word request as his mind ran wild at the challenge of deconstructing the ornament to repurpose the pieces into something else. But he sighed, canning that idea at the assumption of  _ proprietary tech _ being somewhere in the fine print he’d only half-heartedly read the second time. 

For being such a simple security measure, linking the Rick and Morty by dimensional tracing was a really effective deterrent. The Ricksmas tree had the sponsorship of the Citadel Founders, and despite the security concerns for himself, being dimensionally breadcrumbed to The Tree meant he wasn’t likely to fuck around with the tech. 

At best he could make a lot of money, but at worst he’d wind up airlocked out of the Citadel. 

He took another drink from his glass. 

The thought of returning to Earth was the trajectory of most Ricks on the Central Finite Curve, but deviating from the trend, he’d decided that his presence would have fucked up the delicate dynamic of the life his daughter had worked hard to put back together after he’d left it in pieces. 

As he talked with other Ricks whose experiences only validated his decision, he didn’t regret for a moment that he had never returned home. Whatever family he’d left to interdimensional obscurity was far better off hoping he’d maybe come back, and imagining someone far better than the person he actually was.  

He did regret that he had never been able to have an adventure with his grandson. The way Ricks and Mortys talked about it...there was likely a reason why their dynamic  _ had  _ become an interdimensional constant.  

He ran a finger over the smooth metal surface, clenching his teeth at the universal irony of his gift. Not that he was considering it, but even if he  _ had  _ wanted to, he wouldn't know how to give this Morty such a thing. He’d never had an adventure himself. 

He turned the paper tag over in his fingers, reading the instructions. 

_ On Ricksmas Eve, please smash ornament to open a portal to your Morty.   _

With another swig from his tumbler, he set the ornament aside, and returned to work at his two-in-one workbench-table combo. Maybe he could just portal over to the Morty and tell him this was all a mistake. It wasn’t like a request like that was exactly drawing the crowds to begin with.


	3. Have Yourself A Merry Little Ricksmas

 

From the moment the color of his Ricksmas ornament changed, Morty hadn’t let it out of his sight, carrying it with him through the daycare as the other Mortys both cheered and sneered at the idea that a Rick had _actually picked it,_ and as Ricksmas eve arrived, Morty pulled from his belongings the clashy, tree-patterned sweater the Ricksmas Tree team had gifted to all the Morty’s who _didn’t_ have their Ornaments selected last year. It was the only nice sweater he had, and there was really only one occasion to wear such a thing.

He pulled it over himself in front of the mirror, wondering if it was enough, or maybe too much. He’d been in living in Rick’s Daycare for a while because there wasn’t anything particularly interesting or special about him, and although he thought of changing his look or his style, nothing ever felt right. He _wasn’t_ particularly adventurous, and really just wanted to hang out with the other Mortys and play _Jerry’s Game_ or watch TV, but in a few hours a Ricksmas portal would open, and Morty would be taken on an adventure.

Daycare Rick stepped into the mirror frame and Morty spun around, holding his arms out in silence to ask for an opinion.

“Looks good on you.” The older man crossed his arms with a decisive frown, and his toothpick flicked downward with his pessimistic thoughts. “Hey, Morty, don’t take this the wrong way, but...I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Morty frowned in turn and looked over his shoulder at his reflection, second guessing the sweater. He tugged at the fabric, looking down at it.

“I-I know, Rick.”  

He knew, what Daycare Rick had been trying to gently warn him of, remembering the Mortys of the previous year, whose Ricksmas gifts had been so bad that they had bailed, portaling back to the daycare in tears. The older man had probably seen it happen more than once, and while he didn’t want to ruin Morty’s excitement, he also didn’t want to see him disappointed.

“ _Everyone’s_ telling me not to get my hopes up.”

“That’s cause green and red Ricksmas gifts usually go over well, but _every_ season, the gold ones come back with the worst stories. The requests are too ambiguous and open ended. It’s hit ‘n’ miss.”

“It feels like everyone’s telling me to expect the worst, but I haven’t even given it a chance! How bad could it go??”

Daycare Rick made a cringe-y face that told him exactly what he thought of the teen's naivety.    

“All I’m saying is, there’s much less room for error in asking for a Ricktendo. Rationally speaking, that’s the best way to hedge your bets, especially when Radio Rick likes to empty his sack on air. It’s practically guaranteed.”  

“But...that’s not what I wanted.”

Daycare Rick thumbed his soul patch in thought, letting out a long sigh before reaching over to ruffle the hair on his head.

“Just try not to get your hopes up,” he reiterated,  “and if anything happens, or when you are ready to come back, don’t hesitate in smashing your ornament. It’ll bring your ass right back here, where we’re having what I like to call the Ricksmas-special-safety-net-sleepover-movie-marathon. Okay?”   

Morty smiled up at him. “Okay.”

“Keep the sweater.” Daycare added as he left Morty to finish his preparations, and likely give the same buffering talk to the other Mortys preparing for their Ricksmas event.  

“Oh jeez, does it work?”

“Oh yeah, the second he thinks about being an asshole, that festive little pattern’ll make him guilty as fuck, cause even though we call it the _Ricksmas_ Tree, it’s always only ever been about Mortys. Can’t celebrate it without you.”  

  


***

 

“Okay, in and out. Worst case scenario, twenty minute adventure.”

Rick spoke to himself, clutching the ornament in his hand as he went over the plan a final time. He’d just open the portal, and when the Morty arrived, he’d explain how this whole Ricksmas Tree was fucked at the gate, and had tricked him into picking his ornament from the tree. It wasn’t his fault the message was facing the wrong direction. He’d explain how he tried to reverse the claim, but the ubiquitous _they_ of the Citadel wouldn’t let him. Hopefully Morty would understand that this whole thing had just been an honest mistake.

He finished off his glass of scotch and glanced around the empty apartment before deciding that the living room was as good a spot as any. His grip tightened in apprehension, and with a deep breath he smashed the ornament on the ground, causing a ribbon-like green, red, and gold portal to unwrap, connecting him to the Morty who had been waiting for a Ricksmas adventure.

At first, nothing happened, and Rick stared at the portal for a few seconds, relived by the escapist fantasy that maybe Morty wouldn’t walk through it after all. But, sure enough, the teen poked his head into the room, before carefully and timidly stepping through the portal.

Rick swallowed, and caught himself staring as the teen, dressed up in his little Morty Ricksmas sweater, glanced around the small, empty apartment, before looking at Rick expectantly for his adventure.

“H-Hi, Morty.”

 

Fuck. He couldn’t.

 

“H-Hey, Rick.” The teens quiet voice fell between them, before urgently speaking. “Th-thank you! For picking my ornament from the tree.” He blushed and avoided the older man’s gaze, who was nervously glancing toward the finished glass of scotch on the table.

“I uh...I’ve put the same thing on the tree every Ricksmas, but no one’s ever picked it. I’ve– I’ve wanted an adventure for a really long time.” His eyes silently flicked toward him with guarded hope, and Rick's heart stopped in his chest at the golden ticket. _He knew_ how dumb his request was, and he’d gone into the portal expecting the very thing Rick had been planning to do, which was call the whole thing off.

 

Fuck.

 

Despite not even holding out hope for the lowest fucking bar in the universe, the kid, expecting nothing, had dared to give him a chance.

Fuck. fuck. fuck. Rick stalled for time.

“So like, are you at the Academy? Going to school?”

“No,” Morty nervously brought a hand around his neck, and looked away from him. “I live at the daycare–”

“–oh fucking shitballs!” The Rick swore aloud, glancing away from the teen, as he backed out of the room in his stay-at-home loafers. “I uh– I just forgot to grab my coat. Hang on. S-stay– Just stay right there.”

Rick fled into his small bedroom, reaching for his coat, and ran anxious fingers through his hair as he tried to think of something quick. Literally _anything_ would be better than sending the wide-eyed Morty in that _fucking_ Ricksmas sweater home empty handed. He could probably be that cold to a regular Morty, but there was no way in hell he was gonna be _That Rick_ to the _Rickless fucking bastard orphan boy Morty from the daycare_. He swore again, putting on his jacket, before returning to the living room, grumbling under his breath, as he approached the teen once more.

“So uh, one adventure coming right up.” He forced laughter and nervously made small talk with the teen who remained in place, silently watching him. “Y-Your instructions weren’t very clear, so I thought I’d wait for you to show up, and we could figure it out,” he lied. “Wh-what are you into, kid?”

As understanding swept across the Morty’s expression, he couldn’t have hidden the dashed hopes in his eyes if he had tried, but the fact that he tried to nonetheless crushed Rick. Fuck. He was _such an asshole._  

“Oh...Uh...” He blushed, and fiddled with the ornament in his hand, studying the decision to abort adventure. “Wh-whatever you want to do, Rick.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your rodeo?” Rick deflected, then frowned at himself for being such a persistent asshole to the teen who was trying to ride this adventure out. He folded his arms defensively, and Morty’s grip tightened around the ornament until it shook.

They held the stand-offish silence until Morty’s voice suddenly and angrily shouted at him.

“Wh-Why did you pick my stupid Ricksmas Ornament?” The question fell out of his mouth before he could stop the words, and the teen visibly looked up to Rick with surprise at himself, as the older man’s expression dew a shocked blank before quickly recovering.  

“Oh, s-so you admit that is was dumb. Y-you really wanna know?”

Rick spun away from the teen, walking toward the kitchen table and drew out a chair, inviting the Morty to sit down as he took off his coat again, _as per the original plan._ The teen bit his lip, angry, before taking a deep breath and moving himself to sit at the table, glancing curiously at the piles of gadgets strewn about as the Rick moved about the kitchen, fishing through the cupboards.  

Rick returned to the kitchen table with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, before adding a generous amount of peppermint schnapps – all purchased around the same time as the other festive shit – into his. He took an indulgent swallow despite the scalding hot burn, and smoothed out his cold weather sweater, before folding his fingers over the mug to come clean. His fingers nervously rapped across the hot ceramic surface.

“I didn’t want to tell you this because it usually doesn't happen, but I...I made a mistake. It was a mistake.”   

Rick held Morty’s eyes for a reassuring moment of honesty, and wilted at the teen’s ashen expression. His eyes narrowed at the Rick, trying to maintain his composure before taking a drink of the hot chocolate in silent deliberation, and offered his response.

“Oh, I see...I uh… then I guess...I-I should--”

“No, Morty wait!” Rick reached for Morty’s shoulder across the table, steadying the teen’s motions.

“What I meant to say is...I…” Rick stalled for time, nervously wiping his sweating hands on his khakis. “I-I kind of….wanted an adventure too...but I shouldn't have pulled your ornament from the tree.”

Morty returned his gaze, an the hope flicked like a string of lights missing a few bulbs.

“Wh-why not?”

“Because...” Rick folded a hand around his forearm, the hand which wasn't currently death-gripping his mug, and and glanced out the window toward the snow falling outside. His gaze turned back to the Morty, and he avoided the teen’s eyes as he studied the dots of snow on his cheap sweater. If Morty could put so much of himself on the line to meet this Rick at way more than halfway, Rick could offer a bit of vulnerability in turn.

“I-I’ve never...I never had one. With a Morty.” His eyes timidly flick toward Morty, before he quickly hid them away before the teen responded. “–Yeah, I know, smartest man in the universe can’t even figure out how to give you one fucking adventure.”

“Do you have a Morty?”

“I’m sure my dimensional Earth does, but once I left, I never went back.”

“Oh…” Morty hesitated, taking another sip of his hot chocolate more as a play for time than anything before he spoke up once more. “You really haven’t gone on an adventure?”

“That’s not completely true.” Rick defended the imagined criticism, “I did a bunch of shit on my own before I even came to the Citadel, taking on some intergalactic work. But it– it only really gets called an adventure when a Morty’s involved. I just. I’ve heard other Ricks and Mortys talk about them. They need conflict, stakes, a way for Rick to benefit, and, clearly and most obviously, a Morty…”

An interdimensional constant for a reason.

“So I guess I’ve had everything an adventure needs but the last piece.”

Rick wanted to ask Morty about his Rick, but it wasn’t the time or place. Knowing he’d been living at the daycare for a few Ricksmas seasons told him enough for him to know the kids grandfather was long out of the picture, and for whatever reason, this Morty was a long term live-in resident.

He probably did nothing _but_ imagine what an adventure could be.    

“Do you want to try?” Morty’s fingers wrapped around the mug, nervously drawing it closer to him.

“I might...I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Ughh. Why does everyone keep telling me that!”

Frustrated, Morty reached out, grabbing the gadget on the kitchen table.

“All adventures really are...I guess, all I really ever wanted...was to just spend time with a Rick....we could even just work on these?”

“These gadgets don’t do anything. They’re useless. I just work on ‘em when I need an outlet.”

“Well maybe that’s the use?”

Rick looked at the Morty, who was practically handing him an easy out on a silver platter. There was no way that this would satisfy what the Morty had originally had in mind. How could this ever come close to what the kid originally had in mind? He took another generous sip of his hot chocolate, secretly stirring the candy cane he’d slipped into it.  

“Are you –you sure, Morty?”

Morty smiled, pushing the gadget across the table, and reached over to turn on the radio, smiling when the the sound of the the Citadel radio spilled out of the speaker. He returned his haze to Rick, excited.

“Yeah, Rick, show me what you’ve been working on.”

 

 

“And then! Then-then-then then. You’re never gonna believe what he did next!”

By the third cup of peppermint hot chocolate, Rick had picked up a rambling tone, and was gesturing wildly as the pair worked on the useless gadgets together. The awkward atmosphere from earlier had melted away, and a relaxed atmosphere had blanketed around them.   

“That. Fucking guy! C-can you _believe_ people watch his show every week!”

Morty was holding his stomach as his laughter calmed down, and Rick continued to relate his personal tales of the Citadel, or at least the everyday interaction he came across in the Citadel Media Network building.

“I had no idea! We watch Grandpa Rick’s show every week at the daycare! This changes the show entirely! I won’t tell. I can’t. Sleepy Morty _Loves_ that show.”  

As the laughter calmed down, Rick took another confident sip from his mug, slamming its emptiness on the table with pride.

“H-hand me that screwdriver, Morty – Y-yeah, well...I’m surprised you like hearing about what I think of as such a boring job.”

Morty passed the tool over to Rick with a warm smile, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck with a blush.

“Aw jeez, Rick, I-It could always be worse.”

“Cheers to that, Mo-OUGH-rty!”

“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been working on?”

“I already did… It’s a completely useless thing.” Rick drunkenly snickered as he turned the screwdriver, staring at his work with the sort of drunken intensity that only made an appearance in good company.

“That’s what I’m working on! I mean, I uh, I’m taking it apart...It’s still a pretty– a pretty good puzzle, Rick.”

The two laughed together and instinctively Rick reached out to ruffle the Morty’s hair with a playful shove. Morty chuckled, pushing the older man’s drunken affection away, and glanced at the clock as his expression fell.

“Oh…” he sat up with an air of seriousness. “It’s getting late. I-I’m supposed to be back by midnight.”

Rick followed the Morty’s gaze to the clock and joined him in frowning, before hurriedly returning to his work.

“Hang on, it’s….this is almost done. I don’t have a car but hoowee, am I glad I don’t have to drive you back home. Or chaperone you on the hyperloop. Last time I boarded with this much alcohol in my system, I puked everywhere. _Everywhere,_ Morty.”

Rick continued to work and drunkenly ramble, and Morty tried to peek over his hands to figure out what it was. He rose from the kitchen table and smoothed his sweater, glancing at the Ricksmas ornament, not wanting to break it to return home.

“You’re really working hard on something so useless.”  

“It’s art…It doesn't need a purpose other than to exist. _It’s fun,_ Morty. Like your sweater.”

“Wait what?”

Rick fastend the final piece in place, holding it up for Morty to see. It was a metal orb, similar in size and shape to the one from the Ricksmas Tree, and Rick righted himself, getting a bit more serious as the end of their night drew closer.  

“I didn’t...I uh, didn’t want you going back empty-handed. It’s not worth anything, and it doesn't actually do anything but…”

Rick trailed, handing the metal object to Morty, and instructed him to push the button on the top of it. As he did, the metal pieces bloomed apart and slid around in an orchestrated clockwork motion of intricately dancing puzzle pieces, before slipping neatly back into their place. The toy was breathtaking. Morty’s mouth fell open in awe as he realized that Rick had put this together in a matter of hours, drunk, at his kitchen table.

“You file paperwork at your job?” He joked, cradling his fingers delicately around it.

“Society of geniuses kid.” Rick waved off the compliment, rising from the table to join Morty. “It’s a self contained adventure.My little take on the…” Rick drunkenly waved his hand around the air, searching for the word. “Story circle! It all goes back where it started, but it’s a little different each time you push the button.”

“A story what?”

“It’s a...It’s a useless...I told you I didn’t know what an adventure was. But...but it’s yours at least. It’s your useless gift.”

Morty smiled at the gesture, scrubbing a thumb over the metal surface upon which Rick had commemorativley etched their dimensional numbers, and, overwhelmed at the thought that went into it, looked away from Rick. Even though he’d put the gift together in a couple of hours, Morty could tell that it was something he’d been thinking about for a while before outletting it into a creative endeavor. He bit his tongue to keep himself from getting emotional, but Rick picked up on his quivering lip and cursed at himself.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Morty. I get it. This isn’t. I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind. I–”

“No! You idiot! It’s everything I wanted!”  

Morty flung arms around Rick in a hug, embracing the older man as he knocked their bodies back a few steps, and a pair of warm arms circled the teen’s back in return. Rick sank into the moment, throwing his assholery aside, as warmth spread through him at being able to find someone to connect with for the holiday even if only for a moment. He comfortingly mussed the teen’s hair.  

“It’s what I wanted too. Thank you. For...well you know, giving me a chance.”

Rick glanced toward the clock, and reached for Morty’s blue Ricksmas tree ornament. Suddenly, he pulled away from the hug before allowing himself to get emotional. Not that he needed to justify himself to anyone, but he’d had a bit more to drink than his high-functioning average.    

“Well uh. I should get you back.” Rick chewed his cheek, feeling his throat tighten. “This was fun. I-I didn’t really read the rules for this thing...but if you ever wanna do this again, outside of the whole Ricksmas–”

“–I’d love to.” Morty answered before Rick could finish his sentence.

The two were silent for a moment, warmly holding each other’s gaze. Neither wanted to smash the ornament to open the portal, but eventually Rick, just as he had done before, held his breath and dropped the metal ball to the ground. The tri-colored portal ribboned into existence, ready to send the teen back home, and Rick reached out and placed a hand on Morty’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Merry Ricksmas, Morty.”  

Suddenly, and without warning, Morty pushed himself forward, lifting to his toes, to press a quick kiss into the corner of the Rick’s smile, blushing as he slowly pulled away. In silence, Rick’s fingers lifted to touch his lips, his own cheeks warming as his expression lit up like the Ricksmas Tree itself.  

“Merry Ricksmas, Rick.”

Before Morty died of embarrassment at the uncharacteristic, adventurous act, he turned and tripped over himself, fleeing through the portal.

**Author's Note:**

> ###  Starry AU Constellation Map (Interconnected characters & fics in this AU)
> 
> [ ✦ Starry AU Homepage ](https://starry-citadel-au.neocities.org/index.html)   
>  [ ✦ Starry AU Citizens ](https://starry-citadel-au.neocities.org/citadel-citizens.html)   
>  [ ✦ Starry AU Locations](https://starry-citadel-au.neocities.org/citadel-locations.html)   
>    
>  [✦ Radio Rick ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/STARRYAU/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=Radio+Rick&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&commit=Sort+and+Filter&collection_id=139130rel=)   
>  [✦ Brother Morty ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/STARRYAU/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=Brother+Morty&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&collection_id=139130)   
>    
> 
> 
> ###  Extras for The Interconnected Starry Citadel AU 
> 
>        
>  [ ♬ Rick and Morty themed Playlists on Spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/user/qgd6gt9y4l98ubsslngy6a3ue?si=7mx-Uuw0QhGcpylR_tgB9g)   
>  [⚠ Starry AU fanart (and artist credits) on Mastadon (18+) ](https://fandom.ink/@left_handed_rick)   
> 
>   
> 
> 
> ### Kudos & Comments = ❤
> 
> We love kudos and comments way more than we should. If you are enjoying this story let us know!


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